


Warmth

by bodhirookandor



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Force-Sensitive Bodhi Rook, M/M, Minor Character Death, mild reference to torture (bor gullet)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 23:46:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11279274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bodhirookandor/pseuds/bodhirookandor
Summary: “Bodhi,” that’s what his mother names him, “Bodhi Rook.”Something deep within him hums.





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for bodhicassian week day 5! Yay This week is amazing honestly, truly. I hope you guys like this! I don't really know how it turned out-or rather...idk how good it is. Comments are really appreciated (seriously I live for them). If you have any questions you can hit me up on tumblr @bodhirookandor.

A grenade rolls onto the ship, sliding until it settles at his feet. He stares at it, time slowing down, and swallows. 

“I’m sorry,” He doesn’t know who he’s saying it to: himself, NiJedha, his family, Rogue One, Cassian, Cassian, Cassian.

The grenade explodes, fire and shrapnel surrounding him, embedding it in his skin. He falls and sinks deep into the abyss.

He’s gone, and all he can repeat is “I’m sorry.”

* * *

 

_He’s born during a lightning storm, electricity and water hurling into the ground with substantial force. He remembers screaming, the gentle coo of his father and the strong hands of his mother. He remembers hearing, but not really hearing, sounds moving past his ears and settling somewhere deep in his mind._

_“Bodhi,” that’s what his mother names him, “Bodhi Rook.”  
_

_Something deep within him hums._

* * *

 

He learns a lot in that cell, surrounded by his own filth and the slimy tentacles of a monster. He learns of Time, understands it in ways he’d never before thought possible. It’s ripped from him, knowledge gained for every bit of him that falls to floor. He screams but no one will listen. No one ever listens.

“The unfortunate side effect is that one tends to lose their minds.”

He’s falling, falling, falling, entering the large gaping hole of his mind and seeing the thrumming connection for what it is.

* * *

 

_NiJedha cries sometimes. Its tears pelt the ground as its wails rattle the house. Bodhi tries his best, tries to press close to the ground and murmur his sympathies._

_Sometimes it works, warmth cascading down his center and filling the floor beneath him. Other times it doesn’t, the ground remaining stubbornly cold no matter how much warmth it takes from him._

_There are days where NiJedha is quiet, silent and cold like ice. It’s cut off from him, a silent wall that refuses to answer. It shuts itself out, as though its silence would protect itself from theft; as though its silence would somehow change things back._

_Bodhi Rook learns, at the age of ten, that NiJedha-his home-is dying._

* * *

 

He breathes, but doesn’t breathe; fills his lungs with imagined air as he rocks inside his cell. A part of him is gone, ripped away and set aflame. The rest of him is drifting, lost but not lost, lonely but not lonely. Gone..but not gone.

“Hey,” a voice asks, warm and soothing with an undercurrent of fear? Desperation? “Are you the pilot?”

The sounds stirs something within him, a disturbance in his own ocean of consciousness, but he doesn’t stir. He sinks further, more and more of him cracking and falling. He’s there and not there, trapped.

“Hey,” that same voice again, more urgent, “hey listen to me. Are you the pilot?” More of him stirs and whispers shout in his ears.

He falls and falls and falls.

“Listen! Does the name Galen Erso mean anything to you? You brought his message right?” The voice asks again, angry, so very angry, and scared. Something pulls at him, a sensation tugging at his chest until he’s resurfacing. Rising and rising above the empty chasm that is his mind.

“Yes,” he rasps, a broken sob against his throat, “yes-I-I’m the pilot.” 

* * *

 

_His father dies on his eleventh birthday. Bodhi watches in slow motion as the body falls to the ground. He exists outside of himself at the moment, body standing next to his mother, but his consciousness floating above the entire crowd._

_His father had turned and smiled at him before getting shot in the back. Bodhi hadn’t smiled back._

_imperial officers drag his body off the podium, dump him to the ground as though he meant nothing, and walk away. No one in the crowd moves for a minute. Two. Until slowly they walk forward and grab his father’s body, carrying him to be washed and buried._

_Bodhi stands there, hands shaking and existing outside of himself, floating inches above the sand that covered his feet, and inhaling the blood that stained the air. He stands there until he can no longer, falling to his knees and pressing his sorrow and rageragerage deep into the ground._

_The podium shatters in front of him. It crumbles to ash and is swallowed whole by NiJedha itself. Bodhi hurries away._

* * *

 

A hand appears in his vision and Bodhi looks up to see brown eyes, bright and warm. He doesn’t know how long they stared at each other, brown against brown, but a piece of his ocean settles, mind still so very cracked, but less so. The hand is out again, and Bodhi stares down at it.

“Please,” the man whispers, although he hadn’t  **actually**  said it. It’s a thought, an errant plea that slithers past Bodhi’s ears and enters his chest. 

The world around them shakes and Bodhi can feel something tug at his navel, a warning. He grabs the hand and stands up, stumbling just slightly into the other man. They stare at each other again, a minute, two, time slithering around them like a serpent. 

The world shakes again and Bodhi hears it moan in a way that’s so familiar it sets his teeth on edge.

He couldn’t...it wouldn’t...

They run outside and Bodhi almost doubles over with the truth.

NiJedha screams and screams and screams, and a part of Bodhi wants to scream too.

* * *

 

_He used to visit the temple with his mother and sister every Friday. His mother carries packages with her every time, little gifts for the guardians and all that they’ve done for us. She’d tell them, brown eyes glittering like the early Jedha sun._

_He doesn’t remember much, only stepping into the Temple and feeling something close to calm settle around his shoulders. The voice, a stream of consciousness that followed him everywhere, melts away and Bodhi feels a part of him relax._

_He vaguely remembers the guardians, the ones that his mother always spoke to. He remembers sitting next to two men, listening with his sister as they spun tales of adventure and heroics in thirty minutes._

_Bodhi’s favorite stories were always about the Force and flying._

_“Remember Bodhi,” one of the men had told him, “the Force is within every living thing. It is with you. And you are with it. Be careful.”_

* * *

 

“Do you believe in anything?” He asks the other man (Cassian, his mind helpfully supplies), as they walk up the mountain. Cassian doesn’t answer for a while and Bodhi assumes he won’t answer. They walk up the mountain again, the only sound the rain that pelts their back.

“I believe in some things,” Cassian finally answers, glancing at him for a second and then refocusing ahead of them.

“The Force?” Bodhi can’t help but ask, fingers tapping his wrist. Cassian stops, and Bodhi turns to look at him. Cassian is staring, head titled to the side and regarding him with unmasked interest. Bodhi can’t help the small flurry in his stomach.

“How long were you with Gerrera?” Cassian asks instead, his tone almost conversational. Bodhi shrugs, mind throbbing as wounds that have yet to heal bled.

“A couple of days.”

“What kept you going?” Cassian asks, both of them moving closer without meaning to, “what kept you going, Bodhi Rook?”

Bodhi doesn’t answer.

* * *

 

_He hears things sometimes, whispers of people he’s never met. They say things in languages he doesn’t understand, words rushed behind terrified lips._

_Sometimes he dreams, of himself years into the future. He dreams of two men who feel so very familiar it takes his breath away; of a girl, jaded and rough like sandpaper gripping his hand. He dreams of a man whose eyes are so expressive, so brown and open, they set his heart a flam. A man whose heart beats in tandem to his own._

_He dreams of this man a lot, time going forward and backward, existing in numerous points. Bodhi doesn’t question it-doesn’t tell anyone about it either._

_Sometimes he walks. Moves through time and space without a physical body. It drains him both emotionally and physically but Bodhi can’t help it, can’t help the want, the need to move beyond NiJedha._

_He wants to be free, but a part of him knows he’ll always be chained to this place._

* * *

 

“I couldn’t face myself if I gave up now,” Cassian whispers, eyes flickering to the others, before finally settling on him. There’s so much in that glance, a promise, a want, that sets Bodhi’s heart into hyperdrive. He can’t help the small smile that graces his lips, can’t help the flutter in his stomach when Cassian smiles back.

They find each other again later, when everyone has gone for final preparations. Bodhi swallows as he preps the ship, fingers ghosting along the controls as his mind wanders. 

The warmth that comes closer to him alerts him of the other man’s presence. The air around the other man tastes like the earth, sounds like waves crashing and the soft pitter patter of rain against damp soil. It’s cold, but comforting and Bodhi wonders if it’d be alright to spend a moment basking in the other man’s presence. Would it be alright for him to have just this one thing?

Cassian doesn’t say anything for a long while, merely content to watch him make the final preparations. 

“You never answered my question,” Cassian says, breaking the silence. Bodhi glances at him before refocusing on the ship.

“I suppose I didn’t.” Cassian doesn’t reply and Bodhi sighs, hands sliding away from the controls and resting on his lap. 

“What keeps you going, Cassian?” Bodhi asks, regarding the captain in front of him. Cassian doesn’t speak for a long while, eyes sliding past his own and staring off into the distance. It’s glazed, a thousand yard stare, with shadows that darken the iris even further.

“Hope,” Cassian breathes, blinking back into the present. 

“Hope,” Bodhi repeats. They smile at the other and Bodhi, softly, almost cautiously takes the other man’s hand.

Cassian squeezes back.

* * *

 

_Galen Erso teaches him a lot of things. His words are honey suckle and bitter lemon as they guide Bodhi on what to do. He breathes truth to every second syllable, burying them in lies and half statements meant to entice him._

_Bodhi knows this and lets himself fall for them anyway._

_“We helped build this,” Erso says, eyes boring into Bodhi’s, “you and I. We’re responsible for so many deaths. You stole from your home to make this, Bodhi.” The words are cruel, but they do the trick. They slither past his ears, settling into his heart, leaving a sizable crack.  
_

_Bodhi panics in his room, sinks into his emotions so far he can barely breathe. His bed creaks, moaning with effort until finally it breaks. Bodhi shudders and stares straight as his cracked mirror._

_He picks up the device in Erso’s hand, swallows, and heads outside._

_He knows, he knows, he **knows**  it’s a bad idea, but all of him understands that it’s the right thing to do._

* * *

 

“After all of this, do you maybe want to-”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Bodhi, yes.” 

Bodhi smiles, nods, and gets them ready for take off.

* * *

 

_Asha leaves them one morning, nothing but a note on the table with her barely legible handwriting for them. Bodhi hugs his mother as she collapses into his arms, stares up at he ceiling and wills his own tears not to fall. He breathes, in and out, trying not to drown under his fear for his sister._

_Their windows explode and Bodhi holds his mother close to him._

* * *

 

Tonc falls beside him as they finally,  _finally_  make connection and Bodhi can’t help but laugh and cry at the situation. Blaster fire rain around him and he turns on the com link.

“Cassian?”

“Bodhi?”

“The link is open, they’re ready to receive the data-” the grenade rolls onto the ship, the one from his nightmares, the one that he hadn’t even  _known_  was real until this very moment.

“Kriff.”

“Bodhi? Bodhi!” Cassian yells out on the other end, but Bodhi can’t hear him. He’s moving, running and jumping out of the ship as the bomb explodes. He hits the floor, fire and pieces of his ship piercing his body.

He screams and the he knows no more.

“Bodhi!!”

* * *

 

_He’s five dreaming of a boy roughly his age. The other boy is crying, tears cascading down his face even as he remains silent. Bodhi doesn’t hesitate, walking forward and giving him a hug. The other boy tenses for a minute, eyes wide and mouth open as though to same something._

_“I'm here,” Bodhi whispers, staring deep into brown eyes, “You’re not alone.” The other boy shudders in his hold, face screwing up, as he collapses into his arms. Bodhi holds him, looking down at the graves in front of him, before holding the other boy tighter._

_“It’s okay,” he whispers, fingers carting through the other boy’s hair. “It’s okay to cry.”_

* * *

 

He wakes to bright light, the smell of antiseptics, and muffled voices. He panics, flailing weakly on the bed as he tries to fight. He refuses to go back, you might as well kill him first. He refuses, he  _refuses_.

The muffled voices get louder, but they’re less comprehensible, as though spoken through water.

Something shatters, the voices get louder. A needle pierces his skin and Bodhi falls unconscious.

“Please,” he whispers, or maybe he thinks, he’s not sure, “please just kill me.”

* * *

 

_Asha is fifteen when they try to take her._

_“She’s healthy,” the officer says, her smile as empty as her soul, “she’d make a fine addition to the Empire.” Bodhi’s mom rises, objection or acceptance on her tongue before Bodhi beats her to it.  
_

_“No.” The officer regards him cooly, blue eyes glinting with distant amusement._

_“No?”  
_

_“No.”  
_

_“Mr. Rook, I don’t think you’re in the position to argue. You’re sister will either work for us or you will starve.” There’s silence at that declaration, guaranteed damnation for the vague promise of your family’s wellbeing. Bodhi looks at his sister in the corner of his eye and he knows. He knows what she’ll say._

_“You don’t have to give her an offer. I’m joining.” The words are out of his mouth before he can think. His sister and mother rise, their own objection loud and filled with pain. Bodhi looks up at them and smiles, just as empty as the officer with them._

_“It’s okay,” he says, even though something tugs on his navel and screams ‘ **this is wrong.’**  “It’s okay.”_

* * *

 

He wakes again, slowly and then all at once. He  _hears_  the gentle pitter patter of rain,  _smells_  melting ice and turns his head towards the man at his bedside. Cassian is asleep, head tucked into his chest and arms crossed in front of him. Bodhi spends a minute (or maybe it’s an hour? He’s not sure) staring at the man before turning to look up at the ceiling. 

The rush of wind, cold and soothing that emanates from the man beside him puts him back under. 

* * *

 

_His mother reminds him of the moment just before a lightning storm. Electricity hangs in the air, tense and waiting for the inevitable drop. It’s quiet anticipation wrapped with the promise of a deadly threat. The air around his mother is electric, static and dynamic in equal measure. It’s quiet a flash that’s impossible to predict._

_Asha has the presence of fire, quick witted and intense. The air around her burns, turning everything to a crisp. It’s life and destruction in equal measure, danger inherited from their mother and nurture and warmth inherited from their father. She heals as much as she decimates._

_Bodhi sits on his roof and wonders what his presence is. A part of him hopes it’s the air itself, a sweeping sensation like the wind. Razor sharp and flying-no soaring, high above. The idea of exploration in a sense, wrapped around a steel chain._

_He looks up at the night sky, slowly counting the stars that he could make out until he falls asleep, the open galaxy above him._

* * *

 

He wakes to Cassian’s smooth voice, as he mutters his way through a report. Bodhi’s silent for a moment, content to listen to the soft candor of the other man’s voice. 

“Hi,” Cassian says, still staring at his report, but a small smile now rests on his lips, “it took you a while.” Bodhi blinks and tries to smile back, feeling a bit of his skin tighten in response. 

“What,” he coughs and takes the water offered with a grateful hum, “what happened?”

“What do you remember?” Cassian asks instead.

“The all clear for the plans, and then a bomb, and then nothing.” Cassian nodded, placing his hand somewhat cautiously on Bodhi’s cheek. 

‘Is this alright?’ His eyes ask, so very concerned for  _him_. Bodhi nods, heart in his throat.

“You somehow found another ship and then” Cassian shakes his head in disbelief, before continuing, “you did it Bodhi.  _You_  did. And then you almost  _died_.” Cassian swallows, eyes flickering away before turning back to him. They’re expressive, emotions crashing into brown orbs; it’s too much and too little and Bodhi almost feels dizzy with the conflicting emotions.

“And leave you without our date?” He asks. Cassian’s laugh, smooth and wet in equal measure, calms him.

* * *

 

_He sits on the highest hill in all of NiJedha, looking down at the Holy City. He’s on the outskirts, but he doesn’t mind-it makes it easier anyhow. Pressing his face flat against the sand, he sighs and closes his eyes._

_“It’s okay,” Bodhi whispers to the ground, “It’s okay, I’m here. It’s okay.” He flips on his back and looks up at the slowly darkening sky.  
_

_“It’s okay, I’ll figure out a way to get them out. And then you won’t hurt anymore.” NiJedha croons with delight. In the corner of his eye, Bodhi **sees**  the child from before, the one whose loneliness follows him around like a cloak.  
_

_“It’s okay,” he repeats, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”_


End file.
